


The Weight of Dreams

by Frankensteins_Monster



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Auror Harry Potter, Catboy Draco Malfoy, Death, Depression, F/M, Familial Expectations, Family, Finding Love in the Worst of Times, Grief/Mourning, Heir Trouble, Loss, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-War, Prostitution, Relationship Problems, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, being there for each other, catboy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-15 02:46:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,724
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29429031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frankensteins_Monster/pseuds/Frankensteins_Monster
Summary: When Draco Malfoy breaks the Statute of Secrecy in a most unusual way, the Auror Harry Potter is assigned to work the case.(A new chapter posted every week)
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter, Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger & Ron Weasley, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley
Comments: 10
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much to my bff for the creating the awesome banner art which I've included at the beginning of this fic!!! She's the best and I love her to to bits!!!

“We think someone has been using magic to make muggle porn.” Supervisor Michaels said, causing Harry to splutter over his coffee.

“Muggle… porn???” Harry asked, bug eyed, his chin now dripping with his drink.

Michaels smirked. “You’ve been working here for over ten years now, Potter. Yet I mention porn and you act like you’re fresh out of school or something.”

“I… no… sorry.” Harry stammered, raking his hand through his mop of messy black hair.

“It breaks the statute of secrecy act.” Michaels said. “So, we need you to go over there, talk to some people, figure out the situation, and then put a stop to it. Do you understand?”

“…yeah.” Harry said, awkwardly. When he had first pictured himself becoming an auror, he hadn’t exactly pictured working these kinds of cases. He also pictured himself getting out of the office more, shaving more, having healthy ongoing relationships… and yeah, none of those were happening. He was a thirty-two year old man who hadn’t been in a relationship since Ginny, which had lasted only for two years after he’d joined the ministry before she’d decided that Harry had now become an entirely different person to the one she had apparently fallen in love with. Harry, as always, simply took that to mean, ‘no longer the chosen one’.

He’d given up shaving after Ginny left, growing a permanent teenage scraggle across his chin, which refused to grow into anything remotely dignified, much to Harry’s disappointment. His hair had grown wilder too, but Harry liked that. It covered his scar nicely. The only thing he hadn’t changed were the glasses, which still sat on his nose just as they had since he was a kid, and still wrapped with the copious amounts of spello-tape required to hold their beaten-up wire frames together.

People sometimes forgot that he was the Harry Potter who’d defeated Voldemort, and decided that he must be some other Harry Potter who lived in a tiny apartment and was too busy to get a cat. And they were right, to be honest. He’d embraced this new life, although even he couldn’t figure out why.

Hermione said it was because Harry felt guilty somehow, for all the deaths he’d experienced during the war. She’d made him see a counsellor a few times, but Harry had started skipping out on his appointments, much to her chagrin.

Ron thought it was probably just who Harry always was, deep down. “You were probably always just a big dork, it was just sorta hard to tell what with all of the world saving and ass-kicking we did way back when.” Ron had told him, before his daughter Rose ran past them and Ron had scooped her up into his arms and spun her around whilst she laughed.

Hermione had smiled the way she always smiled at her husband when she knew she really loved him. And Harry… Harry had excused himself, saying he had to go back to work. Which was true, honestly, but still…

Harry really liked his new life. But sometimes he hated it. In fact, he hated it a lot. He hated it when he watched Ron and Hermione in love. He hated it in the moments before he went to sleep alone in his tiny apartment. He hated it when he thought about getting a cat, but realised he didn’t even remotely have the time for it. And he hated it more than ever right at this particular moment, as he watched in horror a video of Draco Malfoy getting absolutely railed up the arse on some muggle porn site. Because apparently this… and there was no word for this really… was now a part of Harry’s job.

Harry immediately knew why it was a part of his job, admittedly. The ears and tail that Draco twitched every time the larger man thrust into him were the reason that this was a part of his job. The bastard had used magic for fetish fuel. He’d transfigured his ears into cat ears and had given himself a bloody cat’s tail as well. Harry wanted to be angry. He wanted to be furious. But honestly, every time he reached for his anger he just kept hitting other things. Like exhaustion. And the desire to get drunk. And yet more exhaustion.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head. “Am I seeing things, Michaels? Please don’t tell me that that’s **_Draco Malfoy_** in this, um… ugh… situation.”

“It certainly is.” Michaels said, with a tinge of amusement. “And I imagine ol’ Lucius is spinning circles in his grave right about now. To think, his son’s doing **_Muggle_** porn!” He snickered.

Harry wasn’t sure that the fact that this porn was Muggle was the thing to focus on, really. It certainly wasn’t the strangest part of the equation, not by a long shot. But he didn’t bother saying that to Michaels.

“You went to school with him, didn’t you?” Michaels asked.

“Yeah.”

“What was he like? Can you think of anything that might’ve lead to… this?”

“No.” Harry said. “He was just kind of a prat, honestly. And there was nothing at all like… this… going on. At all.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah.” Harry said. “I’m sure.”

After all the time he’d spent at Hogwarts investigating Draco, how could he not be?

Draco Malfoy was currently being pressed up against a wall and fucked hard. He clenched his hands into fists and bit his lip. It really hurt when it was this rough. His erection had long since gone soft, and he was trying very, very hard to pretend that he enjoyed it. He moaned, and twitched his ears and his tail and put on the performance of a lifetime.

The man fucking him without a care was a member of British Parliament. And this… this was all one big exchange. Not for money. Draco Malfoy had plenty of money, muggle and wizarding both. But what Draco lacked, what his family had lost during the war, was power. It turned out that when trying to negotiate, Draco’s biggest assets were not what he’d always thought they’d be. His sharp tongue, intelligence and impressive knowledge of the ins and outs political manoeuvring meant very little when he couldn’t get an audience with anyone who mattered. He’d lost the Malfoy family the status and power it had built up over _**fourteen**_ generations. It turned out that it wasn’t so easy to get that back within just one.

But his body… they wanted that.

This… was an audience with someone who mattered. He’d gotten his attention. It had only required a bit of considerably public humiliation, a bit of unsafe and unpleasant sex with strangers, and a bit of highly dangerous and illegal transfiguration magic that was likely irreversible.

No, Draco Malfoy was fine, thank you very much!

He could cry when he got home. Then he could make himself warm cocoa the way his mother always used to make it, and watch the muggle show ‘Merlin’ that he liked so much, and pretend that he was safe and treasured and loved the way he used to be.

A hand tightened painfully around Draco’s wrist as the other man came inside of Draco with a grunt, and Draco held back the hitch in his voice as he wavered on the edge of tears. He steeled himself. He couldn’t break down now, the hard part was over. It was time now to do what he came here to do.

Draco sipped his cocoa, and watched Merlin and Arthur argue in that strange, tension filled way of theirs on his television, and pretended he was happy. That was, until he heard a knock at his door. His ears flickered despite themselves, even though, as he continued reminding them, they didn’t need to do that when he was alone.

Draco frowned into his cocoa. Whoever it was would go away soon. After all, it must be a mistake. He never had any visitors.

But the visitor knocked again, so Draco stormed towards the door and flung it open, wand drawn… just in case.

“Who are you and what do you…” Draco trailed off. He lowered his wand and peered curiously towards the man who was standing at his door. “Wait… I know you…” He squinted.

His ears flattened against his head as he slowly figured it out. “Potter?” He gasped. “I barely recognised you! What are **_you_** doing here?”

“Can I come in?”

“No! What are you doing here?” Draco asked angrily.

Harry fished around for his badge and his papers. He flashed them at Draco, before breezing past him and into the apartment, where he bounced onto the balls of his feet and stared around aimlessly.

“Well, it’s better than my place, that’s for sure.” He commented.

Draco opened his mouth, wanting to chew Potter out for daring to stand in his apartment and being so… Potterish. But he was struck dumb with the fear that he was about to get his wand snapped for his use of illegal magic. How did they know, he wondered? He'd kept to himself, and the only people he’d exposed himself to were muggles. He hadn’t given anybody else access to his wand. Had they instituted harsher magical monitoring laws whilst he’d been absent from wizarding society? That couldn’t be right.

“I think you know why I’m here.” Potter said, grimly.

Draco simply nodded, before closing the door and plopping himself down on his favourite chair. It was a big, squishy, one-seater couch. And he tried his best to pretend that Harry Potter wasn’t in his home.

“Did you need the money or something?”

“Money?” Draco asked, in confusion. “Ok, maybe I don’t know why you’re here, then.”

Potter shot him a look which said ‘you’ve given me something new to look into, thanks, genius’, and Draco kicked himself internally.

“I’m here about the… umm… the-“ Then Potter turned sort of red. “The porno.” He eventually muttered.

“Oh, that.” Draco cursed under his breath. That was on the **_internet_**. Most Wizards didn’t have **_internet_**. So he’d thought that it would be fine.

“Yeah.” Potter mumbled. “Breaks the statute of secrecy. Because of the… um…” He gestured vaguely at Draco’s ears and tail. “Those.”

“I mean, the muggles have formed their own ideas about… this.” Draco said, gesturing at himself. “Most of the ones who watch the video think that it’s some fancy special effect or animatronic or something. The ones who don’t were insane to begin with.”

Potter chewed the inside of his lip. “But what about, when they see you just out on the street or something?”

“That’s simple.” Draco said. “They don’t. I don’t go out. Not unless it’s for work.”

Potter bit his lip and then stifled a snort.

“Excuse you?” Draco asked, feeling outraged and slandered by the noise. “That’s the most unprofessional behaviour I-“

“Oh! No. I wasn’t laughing at you.”

“If it’s not me then who could you possibly be laughing at?” Draco asked, his ears springing up angrily.

Potter looked embarrassed. “Myself.” He admitted. “I was about to tell you that it wasn’t healthy, never going out except for work. But then I remembered having the same conversation with Hermione the other day, except it was her saying it to me.” He flushed. “Well, not quite the same… uhh… I would imagine… what with the… situation…”

“Shut up, Potter.” Draco said, wearily.

“Oh, thank you.” Potter sighed, relieved.

He looked around for another chair to sit in, but Draco only had the one, so Harry Potter sat down cross legged on the floor, facing him. Harry Potter, Draco thought, was just as messy and unrefined as he was when he was a schoolboy. He didn’t know how it had taken him so long to recognise him, on second glance.

“So… did you need the money?” Potter asked.

“It isn’t the money.” Draco said softly, his ears flattening back against his head.

“So is this just your… interest… then?” Potter asked, uncomfortably.

“Of course not.” Draco said. “Not that that’s any of your business in the first place.”

“If it concerns the statute of secrecy then it is my business.” Potter said, like he very much wished it wasn’t. “So… why?”

“Tch.” Draco clicked his tongue in irritation. “Fine then. It is my interest. I’m a **_pervert_** , alright? You happy now?”

“And the fact that you made all these sudden, drastic changes to your lifestyle so shortly after your mother died, that wouldn’t have anything to do with it?” Harry asked.

Draco sat in sullen silence for a moment. “Don’t you talk about my mother, Potter.” He warned. But there was no bite behind his words. He sounded just as tired as Harry, more tired, even.

“Was it that there was no one holding you back, anymore?” Harry asked.

Draco’s ears drooped and his tail fell off the couch and hung listlessly towards the floor. He opened his mouth as if to argue, his eyes wide and his forehead creased in an expression so heart-rendingly miserable that Harry genuinely felt awful for having him make it.

They stared at each other for a while, each afraid to speak.

“What am I supposed to say to that?” Draco eventually said.

“Nothing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to- sorry.” Harry said, feeling horrified that he of all people could have managed, even accidentally, to say something so very cruel about the deaths of someone else’s family.

Draco glared at him, and reached for the cup that he’d placed on the table and took a sip. Then his expression broke, his ears smacked down flat against his head, and he started to cry. His cocoa was cold.

Harry didn’t know what to do when Draco started crying. He just tried to stare at the wall, then at the floor, then at his own dirt-encrusted shoes.

Maybe they were the reason why he was crying, Harry tried in vain to tell himself. Maybe Draco was upset that Harry had tracked mud into his place. Yes it had to be that, and not that Harry had swept in and tracked mud all over his name and his family. And once this got out, his reputation too. No. It couldn’t be that, he tried to tell himself.

He glanced over at Draco, who was still crying but was obviously trying to pretend that he wasn’t, though his tail had wrapped itself protectively around him. He pulled out his phone and texted Hermione.

**_Help. Questioning adult male suspect in work case. Suspect broke down crying. Won’t tell me why. What do I do?_ **

He sent the text.

Hermione responded almost immediately.

**_Details?_ **

**_Statute of Secrecy. But rather atypical, sexual in nature._ **

**_Abuse maybe?_** Hermione responded.

Harry looked up from his phone and looked over at Draco. He didn’t look like anyone was abusing him. But then again, it was hard to tell with-

Harry froze. Draco lifted his hand to wipe at his eyes and Harry saw the several finger-shaped greenish bruises on the underside of his wrist.

Harry flipped his phone shut. He made a note to thank Hermione later. She was always right.

“Um… could you come with me?” Harry asked Draco, rather uncomfortably. “You’re not in trouble or anything. We’re not planning to place any charges against you. I just… need you to come with me.”

“Why?” Draco asked whilst furiously wiping again at his tear-stained face.

“I think we need someone who’s more qualified than me to ask you these questions. Because I obviously suck at this.” Harry said, giving Draco a tiny smile of reassurance.

Draco nodded. “Ok.” He said, his voice hoarse and wobbly.

Harry doubted somehow that the fireplace at Draco’s apartment was hooked up to the floo network.

“How long has it been since you’ve apparated?” Harry asked, because it could make you rather ill if you weren’t used to it.

“A week.” Draco said.

“Ok, then. Hold on.” Harry offered his arm, which Draco reluctantly took, and apparated.

“Did you have to pick **_the most crowded_** street?” Draco hissed at Harry, his tail bristling as he looked around nervously.

“I can’t apparate into the ministry. But we’re right outside.” Harry said, quickly pulling Draco into the telephone booth next to them and dialling the number to activate the elevator.

The elevator brought Draco and Harry directly into Harry’s department, and Harry lead Draco to a door, which he pointed to. “You can wait in my office if you want.” He told him, as he grabbed his phone and called Hermione.

Draco opened the door hesitantly. “Oh, Merlin, it’s disgusting!” He exclaimed.

“Yes… it is rather.” Harry said, gloomily.

“I can’t wait in here!” Draco complained, even as he wandered further into the room.

“Oh, the smell!” Draco choked. He poked around through the things on Harry’s desk with a quill.

“Potter? Uh, are you actually storing a nest of **_hatched eggshells_** in this pile of shredded up documents, or do you just have a **_major_** pest problem?” Draco asked.

Harry sighed deeply. “Lord, just don’t let it be doxies again.”

Then Hermione answered the phone, thank goodness.

“I think you’re right. I’ve brought him to the ministry. Now what do I do?” Harry asked her.

“They’re **_moving_**!” Draco gagged as he vanished a pizza box and a bunch of old Chinese takeaway food containers from Harry’s desk with his wand.

“All you can really do is offer to help him, Harry. Maybe offer him a place to stay if he needs one.” He heard Hermione swallow uncomfortably over the other end of the phone. “Although your place is hardly suitable for humans to live in… Why are you asking **_me_** what to do with all this, Harry? I don’t even work for the ministry anymore!”

Harry was taken off guard. He hadn’t expected her to say that.

“Because you know everything, Hermione.” Harry said. “You always know what to do.”

“But I **_don’t_** know what to do.” Hermione said, and Harry heard Rose calling out for her mother from another room. “I don’t always know what to do, Harry!”

She hung up. Harry stood there for a moment, listening to the phone beep softly in his ear, staring blankly at the wall. And then he snapped his phone shut again.

By the time that Harry summoned the will to step back into his office, Malfoy and all, the office was surprisingly already much more habitable. The papers were stacked neatly in a few piles across one side of his desk, and all of the trash had been vanished away.

Draco sat on the edge of Harry’s desk, staring at a shady brown stain across the carpet whilst wrinkling his nose.

“Uhh, thanks.” Harry said, in surprise. He certainly wasn’t expecting Draco Malfoy to do a spot of cleaning up for him.

“Well, I was being forced to wait around in this **_pigsty_**.” Draco grumbled. “And leave the door open, get some air in.” He added.

“Now about that whole crying incident-“ Draco started, as nonchalantly as they come, when Harry interrupted.

“No one’s coming to question you.” Harry blurted out. “I’m passing the case onto another auror in another department.”

“They’ll clean this whole thing up. It’ll be **_fine_**.” Harry reassured him, but for some reason Draco looked more miserable than ever.

“Then what am I even doing here.” Draco groused, feeling frustrated that all of his hard work would just go to waste if those men got obliviated.

Harry looked around his office as he considered how best to say it. And then he really looked at his office, and he had an idea.

“Actually, I wanted to offer you a job, Draco.” Harry said. “A ministry job. If you don’t mind.”

Draco’s eyes went wide with surprise. A ministry job? But he’d pretty much been blacklisted from working in the ministry (or anywhere else even close to respectable) due to his father’s involvements in the war.

“What kind of job?” He asked, with a kind of suspicious excitement. Because truthfully any job in the ministry would be suitable for him right now, if he could just get in then he could surely work his way up to a position that was worthy of a Malfoy. He just knew it. And it would be a significantly better method of building prominence and connections that what he was doing right now. Safer, too. His tail twitched in anticipation.

“As my assistant.” Harry said. “The pay’s not that good. But I think you might’ve noticed just how badly I need one.”

“Yes. Done. Job accepted.” Draco nearly fell over himself in his eagerness to get the job.

“Good.” Harry said, looking pretty pleased with himself. “It’ll mostly be cleaning and paperwork. Which are the two things which you might’ve noticed that I do not generally have the time to do.”

“By the way… are you living with anyone right now?” Harry asked.

“No. Why?” Draco seemed puzzled by the question.

Harry felt relieved to hear that Draco wasn’t living with his abuser, so it was probably safe to let him go back home.

“Just… my job has kind of long hours, and personally I’ve found that it intrudes into my life a whole lot.” Harry said. “So as my assistant, that could be an issue for you too, if there was anyone waiting at home for you.”

“Why do I get the sense that’s no longer an issue for you either?” Draco said, almost sympathetically.

“Yeah. You’re right. No one’s waiting at home for me either.” Harry said. “But at the moment that’s probably because of the smell there.” He added, with a grimace.

Draco’s face went a little paler than usual. And he started to wonder if this new job was worth it, after all.

“My old job was better! In Salazar’s name!” Draco shrieked when he saw the mess that was Harry’s apartment. Then he jumped up onto a table with a cry. “That was a rat! Potter! That was a bloody great rat!”

“No it’s not.” Harry chided. “It’s probably just another doxie or som- Oh, no, sorry. That is a rat.” He scratched his bearded chin as if contemplating it.

“But what kind of a cat is scared of rats anyway?” Harry teased. “Aren’t you supposed to eat them?”

Draco’s tail bristled angrily. “I am not a cat!” He hissed.

“I was just making a joke.” Harry rolled his eyes and with a flick of his wand sent the rat outside.

“Well I don’t very much appreciate your sense of humour!” Draco spat, hopping off the table. Then his ears flattened slightly against his head. “But make sure you’re ready to get rid of any more we find. I refuse to clean anything unless you do.”

Harry nodded and started scooping trash into trash bags and then lining them up on the floor for vanishing.

Draco narrowed his eyes. “What’s that you’re making over there? A monument to garbage?”

“I’ll vanish them later.” Harry said.

“You’ll vanish them now.” Draco corrected him. “I’d bet my tail that vanishing things ‘later’ is the exact reason the place is so disgusting to begin with!”

Harry looked mournfully over at the bags of trash. Draco was right. But he didn’t like it. He hesitated. There might be something in there he needed. Something he’d accidentally swept in with the trash by mistake.

“Oh for Merlin’s sake!” Draco exclaimed, rolling his eyes. “I’ll do it then.” Draco vanished the bags and turned back to his cleaning. “Sainted Potter.” He grumbled under his breath. “Git can’t even clean up after himself.”

A few seconds later Draco leapt backwards and clutched Harry’s arm, his features contorted in a grimace.

“Another one?” Harry asked, and Draco nodded.

“Open the door.” Harry said, and Draco did. Harry sent the second rat outside and Draco slammed the door shut in its wake, and then shivered.

“You weren’t anywhere near it.” Harry said.

“Shut up! I was close enough to it, you speccy git!”

Draco snapped his mouth shut so fast his teeth clicked. “Sorry. You were nice enough to give me a job. So I really shouldn’t- sorry.” He apologised nervously.

“I mean, I suppose I am making you clean this gross place out.” Harry said good-naturedly. “So you can call me a speccy git if you really want to.”

“I don’t want to.” Draco said, earnestly. “Rats just freak me out. I’m sorry.”

It wasn’t until Draco had been Harry’s assistant for almost two weeks that Ron popped into his office to visit. He stopped dead in surprise as soon as he opened the door. Harry was just grateful that Draco had popped down to the records room for the time being.

Ron looked at the room with his jaw ajar. “Is this… Have I got the right office?” He asked, facetiously. “I’m looking for a Harry Potter.”

Harry snorted and pushed his glasses up his nose. “Well, I got a new assistant recently. Cleaned up a bit.”

“Whoever did this, Harry, you marry them! You marry them right this instant!” Ron insisted.

Harry laughed uncomfortably. “I don’t think you’ll like him that much.”

“Heck, Harry, at this point I wouldn’t care if you’ve got Draco bloody Malfoy working for you. Anyone who can-“

Draco walked through the door with a stack of papers and stopped dead at the sight of Weasley.

Ron blinked. “Fuckin’ hell it **_is_** Malfoy!” He exclaimed in horror. “I was joking! What in the **_fuck_** is he doing working for you?”

Draco glared and prodded Ron Weasley in the shoulder with his pointer finger. “For your information-“

“And why is he dressed up like a cat?” Ron interrupted. “Answer that question first, actually.”

Draco flushed brilliantly red. “I am not dressed up like a cat!” He huffed. “And it’s none of your business! Harry, don’t you dare tell him anything about it!”

“I won’t.” Harry reassured him, with a roll of his eyes.

“First you **_hire_** the prick, and now you’re keeping his **_secrets_**?” Ron exclaimed.

“You’re the one who said I should marry him.” Harry said, with a laugh.

Draco’s eyes went wide.

“Yeah, well that was before I knew he was Malfoy!” Ron said. “Fire the creep! Or better yet send him to the pound! I’d rather live with the rats **_and_** the doxies **_and_** the smell than deal with him!”

“You’ll live, Ron.” Harry said. “Because there is no way that I’m firing Draco.”

Ron sneezed. “I think I’m actually allergic.” He said, sniffling and wiping his nose on the back of his hand. “I never did much like cats.”

Draco stared at Ron’s nose wiping in obvious disgust. “I’m sure the feeling’s mutual.” He muttered.

Harry got a call that evening from Hermione.

“Ron won’t stop going on about Draco Malfoy in your office dressed as a cat.” She said. “Please tell me there’s some truth to that so I don’t have to call St Mungo’s and say my husband’s lost his mind.”

“He isn’t **_dressed_** as a cat.” Harry said. “He’s got… well… appendages.”

“What kind of appendages?” Hermione asked curiously.

“The ears and a tail.”

“So Draco Malfoy’s really there?” Hermione asked, having finally processed the information after a rather prolonged stretch of silence.

“I hired him as my assistant, recently.”

Hermione paused for a moment on the other end of the phone. “So is he the abuse victim you were telling me about, then?”

“Yeah.”

“See. That’s a good solution. You came up with a really good solution by yourself. You didn’t need me.” Hermione said, dully. “Ron told me your office was clean too. That’s when I really thought he might’ve lost it.” She laughed, but it sounded strained.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! This is a note for those of you that read the first chapter shortly after I originally posted it. I actually gave it a huge update a while after posting it that contains some rather important story elements for this chapter. So please make sure to double check that you've read the updated version before moving on to this chapter. Thank you. <3

“How the hell have you done this, Harry?” Draco asked when he stopped by Harry’s place to drop off some files that Harry needed. “I cleaned it all up three weeks ago. Spick and span. Now look at it! It’s a mess!”

Harry sheepishly apologised.

Draco clicked his tongue. “Apparently, I now have to stay here and clean up after you, you stupid oaf!” He muttered, although he said it fondly.

And apparently he meant he had to stay here for good, because when he was done with all the cleaning up, he simply didn’t leave. He ended up falling asleep on Harry’s squidgy sofa.

“Thanks, Draco.” Harry whispered to the strange figure sleeping on his couch. It felt… good, to have someone take care of him. He just never would have expected to feel this from Draco Malfoy.

But it had been over a decade since Hogwarts. Harry had changed, Draco had changed, Ron and Hermione had changed. Harry stared at Draco with a kind of melancholic regret. He probably should have done something when Draco’s life had changed, when he’d lost the only family he had left, his mother. Harry had heard about it. And he should have at least checked on him, since after all, he knew firsthand how hard it could be to lose one’s family.

Not for the first time, he wondered what exactly had happened to Draco, why he’d done these things. Harry was at least grateful to see that there were no more bruises springing up on Draco’s skin. He checked, sometimes, allowing his eyes to wander over the smooth surface, peering at the places where the fabric sat, just willing it to slip a little lower, to let him see a little more. To check for hidden bruises… of course. And for no reason other.

And then he got a text from Hermione.

**_Could I please stay with you for a while, Harry? Ron and I have had a fight._ **

Harry’s eyes went wide. Hermione and Ron… had a fight?

 ** _Yes._** Harry texted back simply. When it came to Hermione, his answer was always yes.

“Huh… you always said you wanted a cat. I guess you got a cat.” Hermione said with a glimmer of amusement, as she noticed Draco sprawled out asleep on Harry’s couch.

“Hermione! That’s sick!” Harry choked in horror.

Hermione frowned. “It is?”

And Harry thought about it. He wasn’t sure why exactly that was sick, he just knew that it was. “I just… I wouldn’t… It’s different.” He stammered, unable to put the feeling into words.

“It was just a joke.” Hermione said. “Aren’t you taking it a little bit seriously?”

Harry sighed. “Definitely. Sorry.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

“So what happened with Ron?” Harry asked, concerned. He’d not known his two best friends to fight much. Certainly not badly enough to send Hermione running over to stay with him for the night.

Hermione sighed. “Can I just… not tell you?” She begged. “I want to keep at least a few friends before the night is up.”

Harry’s lips parted in surprise. Then he took Hermione’s hand and squeezed it gently. “You’re my friend no matter what.” He said. “It doesn’t matter what you tell me.”

Hermione looked at the floor. “Ron’s been really excited about the idea of having another child.” She said, dully. “And he’s been incessant about it lately. And he was asking me why I’m so against it. And… I finally told him.”

She bit her lip. “I told him that being Rose’s mother didn’t make me happy. I told him that it was exhausting and hard. And that I missed working for the ministry. And that I feel like years of my life were **_wasted_**.”

There were tears running down Hermione’s cheeks. “That doesn’t mean I don’t love Rose, Harry! And it doesn’t mean I don’t love him, either! I love them both, so much! But, I just don’t want to do **_this_** again! A new **_baby_**! I couldn’t do that again.”

Harry didn’t say anything. He just stroked his thumb warmly across the back of Hermione’s hand.

“Please tell me I’m not crazy.” Hermione begged. “Or a horrible person, or wrong!”

“You’re not crazy.” Harry said. “You’re not a horrible person. And you’re not wrong. You’re a good mother. But if you want to stop at one, you can stop at one, Hermione. And no one’s going to make you do otherwise.”

Hermione sniffled and hugged Harry fiercely. “You’re my best friend, Harry. And you’re so important to me. And I’m so sorry if I’ve made you feel lately like you aren’t a priority, because you are, it’s just-“

Harry patted Hermione’s back. “No. Of course you’re my best friend. You’ve just had a lot going on. That’s okay, really!”

Draco stretched on the couch and opened his eyes. “What’s all the racket.” He murmured sleepily.

“What’s Granger doing here?”

“ ** _Hermione_**.” Harry corrected him coldly. “Needs to stay here for a little while. Be nice to her.”

“You can have my room, if you’d like, Hermione.” Harry said to her.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“I insist.” Harry said, and she eventually gave up and went to go sleep in Harry’s room.

Harry then turned to Draco. “Move.” He said. “That’s my couch.”

“I was here first!” Draco complained. “It’s mine!”

Harry dove onto the couch, and Draco let out a soft “oof” as Harry jumped on top of him. They struggled seriously for a moment, a mass of flailing limbs and muffled grunts as they both tried to unseat each other, until Draco buried his head in Harry’s armpit and started laughing. Soon Harry was laughing too.

“Shut up, you idiot!” Harry hissed through his own laughter. “Hermione will hear!”

Then Draco looked up into Harry’s eyes. “Hermione will hear… what, exactly?” He asked, a small but ridiculously smug grin inching its way across his face.

Harry stared down into Draco’s grey eyes. A vision of the little prat he used to be briefly flashed through Harry’s mind, as if taunting him. But then everything went still and quiet, and Harry looked down into Draco’s eyes, and then down at his lips, and he heard his gentle panting breaths, and Harry wasn’t sure he recognised the man pinned underneath him at all anymore. Draco’s right ear flickered.

“I… don’t know.” Harry whispered.

Draco closed his eyes. “Alright.” He said, looking a little hurt and disappointed.

“Move so I can get up. I’ll head home.” Draco said, patting Harry lightly on the shoulder.

Suddenly in the worst way Harry couldn’t help but remember the video he’d seen, of Draco underneath that other man, moaning as they-

He swallowed.

“It’s ok.” Harry said, pulling himself off Draco. “You don’t need to go. I’ll take the floor beside.”

He plonked down onto the floor, and Draco tossed him a cushion, which he grabbed and used as a pillow.

“Thanks.” Harry said.

When Harry woke up that morning, something was tickling his nose. He sniffed, and rolled over, only for whatever it was to smack him softly in the back of the head. Harry sat up indignantly, only to realise that they’d both shifted in the night, and Draco’s tail was hanging down just above where his face must have been.

Draco’s tail moved about in his sleep, slowly undulating back and forth in front of Harry’s face. Harry grinned. He’d just thought of something rather funny. He reached out, and yanked on it.

Draco rolled over and fell on top of him with a startled yelp, shaking his head and blinking away some tears of surprise. “What the hell was that for, Potter?” He moaned. “Did you seriously just pull on my tail? That bloody hurts.”

He hadn’t called Harry by his last name in a long while.

“Err, sorry.” Harry said. He’d thought that would be funnier. “I didn’t think that through. I was half asleep and it was smacking me in the face.”

“Well, that…” Draco trailed off awkwardly. “I was having a dream.”

Harry raised his eyebrows. “A dream? Of what? Chasing birds around?” He teased.

“Keep up those kinds of jokes and I’m going to start throwing unforgivables around.” Draco groused. “And no. I dreamt that I was back at Hogwarts. It was my first night there, and I saw you. And instead of insulting Weasley, this time I said exactly what I felt. Which was that I thought you were amazing, and that I really, really wanted to be your friend.”

“Actually.” Hermione said from the kitchen, thoroughly startling both of them. “At the moment, a bit of insulting Weasley wouldn’t go astray!” She banged the cupboards around searching for a suitable mug. “I’m in the mood for a bit of insulting Weasley!” She muttered.

Draco hopped off of Harry and stood up with an anxious pout. He looked over at Harry, who stood up a little more slowly.

“Hermione.” Harry moaned, chastisingly.

“Oh, I still love him.” Hermione grumbled. “Don’t get your knickers in a twist, Harry. I just want to hear someone else call him an arsehole, that’s all.”

Draco’s ears pricked up. “In that case…” He drawled, moving over and draping himself up against the bar, like the suavest gentleman cat you’ve ever seen.

He cleared his throat. “Weasley’s thicker than a dragon steak. He’s as ugly as a flobberworm that’s grown legs. And how that man ever managed to score a girl like Granger is beyond even **_my_** ability to comprehend!”

Hermione giggled like a schoolgirl and sipped her coffee. Harry felt an upset gurgling in his stomach that he felt was a sign of bad things to come. He didn’t really want to encourage an overly anti-Ron sentiment here. Ron was his best friend, just like Hermione was his best friend. And the two of them fighting was good for nobody.

“By the way, I’m sorry about what I said to you. In second year.” Draco said, the grin fading from his face and his ears flattening. “You know, the thing about you… being a mud-blood.”

Hermione’s eyes went wide. She clutched her coffee tightly. “You know, I’d almost forgotten about that.” She said, a thoughtful expression across her face. Then she smiled gently. “I suppose I do forgive you for that. Since at the end of the day, that’s not such a bad memory.” She chuckled lightly. “Ron spent half the day throwing up slugs because he stood up for me. I guess it’s easy to forget that someone can do something like that for you, when you’re busy hating them.”

“Not that I’m wrong!” Hermione added firmly. “But since when **_hasn’t_** Ron been a little misguided on occasion? I just need to walk him through it, the way I always do. He’ll understand, eventually. He’ll come round. I’m sure of it.”

“Thank you, Draco.” She breathed, running up to him and squeezing him tightly in a hug.

Draco had never looked so shocked.

Hermione stepped back and apparated away with a sharp crack.

“She’s always that way after she’s got her morning coffee in her.” Harry observed. “Meanwhile I’m still figuring out which way is up.”

“I’m not so sure you’ve ever known.” Draco said, with a surprisingly warm smile.

He sauntered over to Harry and tutted. “Look at your hair. All these years and I just assumed you walked around with bed head all day. I didn’t know it gets even **_worse!_** ”

“You should see me after working thirty-six hours without sleep.” Harry said. “Michaels says it looks like my hair is trying to eat me.”

Draco snorted. “Is it weird that I actually sort of like… whatever it is you’ve got going on here?” He gestured at Harry. At his wild hair, and his scraggly beard, his terribly unfashionable clothes, his spello-taped glasses.

Harry raised an eyebrow and grinned. “I’m sorry, you what?”

“I…” Draco chuckled lightly. “I meant that it suits you.”

“Thanks.” Harry said. He could count the number of compliments people had given him in the last ten years on one hand. And honestly he thought this was the best out of all of them. He didn’t stop to think too hard why.


	3. Chapter 3

“None of this looks even remotely like food.” Draco complained as he searched through Harry’s kitchen for something edible.

Harry shrugged. “It’s quick and cheap.”

“Your bones’ll go soft.” Draco said concernedly, holding a pot noodle at arm’s length as if it could be some sort of explosive device in disguise. Which given that it was an Extra Spicy Green Curry flavoured pot noodle, and Draco was used to the soft subtleties of mostly British and French cuisines, it likely would be.

He tossed the noodles back into the pantry and closed it with a sigh. “Do you remember the food we used to eat every day in the great hall?” He asked.

“Yeah.” Harry said, thinking back to that time fondly. “Turkey. Pudding. Hot, buttered toast.” He mumbled between jotting some notes in the margins of his notebook with a quill. He groaned a little groan that reminded Draco of other things.

Draco cleared his throat. “Mm. Yes.” Then he sighed. “Let’s just get some take out or something for tonight. Got any menus?”

“Hm?” Harry hummed questioningly.

“I said, have you got any takeout menus?”

Harry’s quill stopped its incessant scratching. “Oh. I think they must’ve been in with the trash you vanished. I knew there was a reason why I didn’t want to throw those bags away.”

“Oh, forget about the sodding trash.” Draco scolded. “But in that case, have you got a computer?”

“I think I have one around here somewhere.” Harry mused.

Draco sighed an extremely world weary sigh, and stomped off to look for it.

Twenty minutes later, and Draco was ordering them food online.

“You know, I think I could sell tickets to this.” Harry mused. “Draco Malfoy ordering a pizza on the internet.”

“I think you of all people know I’ve done far worse things on the internet.”

Draco somehow said that with a straight face, while Harry remembered again exactly what it looked like to see Draco Malfoy naked. Exactly what kind of face he made in the middle of-

“Pizza’s here.” Draco announced as the doorbell rang, and Harry glanced up from his notebook. So far he was making notes on this case involving an enchanted broomstick that had gone off on its own and was now flying rider-less around the skies of Muggle London. He was trying to figure out some ways that he could track it. But he hadn’t come up with much of anything good so far.

Draco deposited the pizza box in the middle of the table and waited patiently, whilst Harry just continued scribbling things in that stupid little notepad of his.

Draco cleared his throat. Harry didn’t even look up at him.

Draco was starting to see why Harry hadn’t been able to keep a girlfriend.

After what felt like half an hour, but was probably more like five and a half minutes, Draco stormed over to Harry and snatched the notebook from his hands, chucking it across the room.

“Hey! Wh-“ Harry started to exclaim.

Draco just pointed to the pizza box on the table.

Harry glanced at his notebook longingly.

“Whatever the problem is, if you haven’t figured it out by now, then surely it can wait until tomorrow.” Draco said.

Harry’s stomach rumbled in perfect timing.

“See.” Draco chuckled. Then some of the humour flooded from his face to be replaced with concern. “You do remember to eat all your meals when I’m not here, don’t you?” He asked.

“God, you sound just like Ginny.” Harry complained, and then he froze. “Um, please forget I said that.” He mumbled, pink cheeked.

Draco snorted. “Why so embarrassed, Harry? Unless of course you were thinking about something really embarrassing. Why, I imagine even Hermione must be concerned about whether or not you eat. Does it rankle you so? Or is it just me that does that?”

Harry ignored him, instead chewing on a large bit of pizza.

“I guess I always did have a bit of a habit of getting under your skin.” Draco said, with a curiously exhausted tone to his voice.”

“Our sixth year.” Harry said through another bite of pizza. He swallowed. “I had this map back then, and it showed me where all of the students and teachers were at that moment, around the castle.”

He looked up at Draco. “I used to always look for your name on it. I just… I guess I wanted to see where you were going.” He bit his lip. “I thought you were up to something. I mean, I was right. But that wasn’t the only reason I was watching. I’d spend hours just staring at your name. Everyone thought I’d gone mad. I thought about you all of the time.” He shook his head and let out an uncomfortable sounding chuckle. “But that was when we were on opposite sides of a war, and honestly you weren’t my favourite person back then, so I could just tell myself I hated you and be done with it.”

Draco stared at Harry, trying to figure out what he could mean by telling him all this.

“I guess I just mean, that I don’t really know what to make of this **_now_**. Because I don’t hate you anymore. And you’re right. You **_do_** get under my skin. You rankle me. You make me distracted and I just end up thinking about you. Nothing’s changed except the fact that I don’t hate you. And I don’t really know what to make of that, I suppose.”

“Make of that whatever you will.” Draco said softly.

He stood up and wiped at Harry’s cheek with a napkin, where he’d managed to smudge his skin with pizza sauce.

“You always get under **_my_** skin too.”

Then the doorbell rang.

Harry started to get up, but Draco stopped him.

“No, I’ll answer it.” He said. “You eat a proper meal for once.”

“Is pizza really a proper meal?”

“Comparatively.” Draco drawled.

When Draco answered the door, the expression on Ron Weasley’s face couldn’t have been more awkward.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but then just shook his head and pushed past Draco into the apartment.

“Hey Harry. I was wondering if I could stay here tonight. I think it’s probably my turn.” Ron said. “That is, if I’m not interrupting something.” He added, with a sideways glance towards Draco.

“It’s fine.” Harry said. “Stay as long as you like.”

“Because if I’m interrupting something, then I really, truly do not want to intrude. You don’t have **_any_** idea how much I insist upon not interrupting… anything, really.” Ron continued, ignoring what Harry had just said.

“I said it’s fine, Ron.” Harry groaned. “What’s your problem? You’re acting like I’ve got a girl over or something.”

“Or something.” Ron muttered, with a glance over at Draco. “Well, as long as it’s really fine, then I can take the couch.”

Harry and Draco shared a sudden look. Because Draco normally slept on the couch. And Harry’s place only had the one bed. Which meant that if Ron took the couch, that left Draco and Harry…

To share a bed.


	4. Chapter 4

Harry and Draco were curled up in Harry’s single person bed together. It was… well, awkward would be an understatement, really. There wasn’t really room for them to comfortably face away from each other, so Draco faced away from Harry and Harry sort of spooned him.

“You’re a million degrees, Harry.” Draco grumbled, wriggling about uncomfortably. “How on earth am I supposed to get to sleep like this? With your stupid, hot breath on the back of my neck.”

“You could always sleep on the floor if it really bothers you.” Harry said, although they both knew he didn’t mean it. He looked at the back of Draco’s neck. Draco had a really nice neck, Harry thought, absentmindedly.

Draco moaned and wriggled about some more in annoyance.

“Wait.” Gasped Harry after a little while. “Stop… Just, stop.”

Draco stopped moving. “Wait… that’s not.”

“You were brushing up against it and-“

“Seriously?”

“I couldn’t help it!”

“You don’t get out often, do you?”

“You bloody well know that I don’t.” Harry muttered. “You’ve been here too long to not know that.”

Harry swallowed. “It’ll calm down. Just stop moving and give it a minute.”

Draco turned himself around to face Harry.

“You could wait for it to go away on its own.” Draco said. “Or, we could deal with it the fun way. Your choice.”

Harry stared at Draco. “The fun way?” He eventually whispered. Because it really had been a very long time.

“Good choice.” Draco purred, sticking his hand down Harry’s boxers and stroking him gently.

Harry flushed. He looked into Draco’s stormy grey eyes and felt the tingle of a familiar arousal. There was a light flush in Draco’s skin too, painted across Draco’s perfect cheekbones. Draco’s tongue swept out to brush across his lips.

“Oh!” Harry whimpered, a moment before he came by Draco’s hand.

Draco raised one perfect eyebrow. “Really, Harry? That was hardly a minute.” He whispered.

“Shuddup! I told you it’s been a while!” Harry hissed, turning even redder at the cheeks.

Draco chuckled softly. “Then I guess you’ll need to work on that.” He whispered directly into Harry’s ear.

When they woke up the next morning, they were tangled together. Harry blinked awake in surprise, Draco’s arm was hooked around Harry’s waist, and Harry’s right leg was tucked between Draco’s thighs.

The morning light lent an almost ethereal strangeness to the situation, which was not much helped by the ears protruding from the sides of Draco’s head.

Harry felt as if there was something pooling warmly in his stomach. He leaned in a little closer, clutched Draco a little tighter. Harry briefly contemplated the idea of waking Draco up with a kiss, before convincing himself that no, he was getting entirely too ahead of himself. Draco would probably just laugh at him if he did that. Or worse.

He’d look down at Harry coldly, Harry speculated, the way he used to when they were kids. And then he’d say, ‘What on earth are you doing, Potter? I was just doing you a favour, since I know no one else wants to touch you. But why on earth do you think I’d want to kiss you?’

Harry looked sadly at Draco’s sleeping face. “Why **_do_** I want to kiss you?” He wondered aloud.

Draco moaned gently in his sleep, his ears twitched, and then his eyes eventually fluttered open.

“Harry?” He asked, blearily.

They stared at each other, Harry’s heart thundering dangerously in his chest.

“Draco, I-“

**_Thump._ **

They both startled as noises started emanating from the next room. Ron, it seemed, was awake. Harry and Draco shrank back from each other, Harry sitting on the very edge of the bed and Draco immediately running off towards the bathroom, his cheeks vermillion.

At breakfast Ron chewed a piece of toast loudly while Harry and Draco tried to avoid looking at each other. It was eerily like being back at school again, Harry thought. Only difference being that the treacle-thick animosity between him and Draco usually came from something stupid, like the exchanging of a few insults or a light jinx between them. This time, Harry thought with startling clarity, it was because he and Draco had gotten off together in the night.

Or upon second thought, Harry considered, **_Harry_** had gotten off. Draco hadn’t gotten off at all.

He wondered if that was what was bothering Draco. If indeed, he was actually upset. Unless of course, Draco wasn’t upset. Maybe Draco thought Harry was upset, and that’s why he was acting a bit odd. But that would be ridiculous, because Harry wasn’t upset. In fact, he was-

Ron cleared his throat. “So… Malfoy.”

“Draco.” Harry corrected, without thinking about it.

Draco flushed a little and glanced over at Harry before turning his focus back towards his fork.

“Harry, mate, you know I love you. But that’s **_Malfoy_**. You can’t expect me to be all buddy-buddy with him after everything he’s done.”

“ ** _Everything he’s done?_** ” Harry asked. “What’s he done, exactly, Ron?”

Ron opened his mouth, but Harry interrupted him.

“ ** _Besides_** being a prat.” Harry said sternly.

Draco stiffened in his seat. A piece of egg fell from his fork.

“He did everything he could to help us in the war. You know that, even if you won’t admit it.” Harry chastised Ron, but Draco couldn’t hear it.

Harry had called him a prat. Harry still didn’t forgive him. Harry…

“He didn’t have a choice, Ron. They would have **_killed_** him, otherwise.”

“Yeah, well it doesn’t mean I have to like the guy.” Ron said. “I can tolerate him. Doesn’t mean I have to like him. Sorry Harry.”

“I agree, **_Weasley_**.” Draco spat, with enough venom in his voice to make even Harry flinch. “I wouldn’t want to hear my name come out of your pathetic blood-traitor mouth if my **_life_** depended on it.”

Harry’s mouth dropped open.

“That’s…” Ron spluttered. “Merlin’s beard, Malfoy. You’re completely disgusting.”

Harry just stared at Draco in shock and horror.

Upon realising what he'd just said, Draco felt so sick and self-conscious that he almost wished that someone would hit him. “Shit!” He swore loudly, clutching his head in his hands. “I didn’t really mean that, Ron. I apologise. I’m sorry. Merlin's Beard, I-”

“Save it.“ Ron said, angrily. “I’m leaving. See you later, Harry.”

Harry and Draco just sat there, both having lost their appetite.

Working together that day was the most uncomfortable experience, for both of them, honestly. They barely talked. They mostly shoved papers in each other’s faces and tried to pretend that they didn’t need each other. That they didn’t rely on each other. That their lives hadn’t grown so intertwined that perhaps they couldn’t even live without each other.

But when they returned to Harry’s apartment, which they now shared, and Draco started packing, Harry knew he had to say something. The floodgates burst open.

“I thought you’d changed.” Harry said, and Draco whirled around, with his arms full of his soft throws and packets of expensive skin creams.

“Oh, I’ve changed, Potter.” He said. “Believe me. My own parents wouldn’t recognise me, if they met me today.”

“You apologised to Hermione.” Harry said. “Did you really mean that, or-“

“I meant it.” Draco said through gritted teeth.

“So then… if you’ve changed and if you’ve discarded your parent’s beliefs then what’s with the blood purity shit you threw at Ron today?” The words sort of burst out of Harry. And he didn’t even realise he was yelling until he saw Draco flinch.

“I don’t get it.” Harry added, softening his voice. “Ron’s my friend and I just don’t get it. I _**hate**_ this.”

Draco hugged a soft fleece blanket to his chest. Harry loved that blanket. Sometimes when Draco was out running errands, Harry stole that blanket. When Draco returned he always stole it back. Harry loved the way it smelled.

“That’s precisely it.” Draco said in a small, trembling voice. “You **_wouldn’t_** get it. You never really **_did_** understand me.” Draco said, and Harry felt it like a blow to the chest. “But I can’t blame you for that. I’m not completely sure that I understand me either. I'm _**useless**_ , **_hopeless_** , not even _**worth**_ understanding, really.”

Draco kept packing away his things into a bag. His life next to Harry simply vanishing inside the tiny magically enhanced space.

And all of a sudden Harry realised, that Draco leaving here meant he would be going back into the arms of someone who’d hurt him. And Harry couldn’t let him do that. So he let himself say the words that had been dancing on the tip of his tongue.

“I **_want_** to understand you.” Harry said, and Draco looked up wide eyed from his packing.

“No, you don’t.” Draco said, dismissively.

“Yes, I do.” Harry pushed.

“No you don’t!”

“Yes I do!”

“You called me a prat!” Draco yelled out, his face glowing with frustration and shame.

Harry paused. “Yeah, when we were kids. Like, all the time.”

“No. This morning. You called me a prat. And after we…” Draco cut himself off and bit his lip. “It’s just… I thought things were different now. I’ve been helping you. I just thought maybe that you didn’t **_hate_** me anymore.”

“I don’t hate you.” Harry said. “You weren’t really listening to me this morning, were you?”

“I was listening! I heard you say it!”

“I was **_defending_** you, Draco! I was talking about the **_war!_** I asked Ron what it was you’d really done besides being a prat! And you **_were_** a prat! But you weren’t a killer! That was my point!”

“Well… fuck.” Draco swore, continuing to pack his suitcase. “I’m sorry for being a prat, then, as well as a just a general piece of shit. I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Please stay.” Harry begged.

“You **_want_** me to stay?” Draco asked, seeming genuinely shocked by the sentiment.

“Of course I want you to stay, Draco!” Harry said, and Draco just blinked at him with his lips parted gently with surprise.

Draco stopped packing. He folded his arms, looking pretty pleased with himself, but attempting to hide it. His ears pricking up sort of gave it away.

“Well, I do suppose you’d be pretty lost without me here, Harry.” Draco said. “Really, what **_would_** you do without me?”

Harry sagged with relief, he scratched a hand through his messy hair. “Die buried under a mountain of trash, probably.” He said with a grin.

“Harry, I really am sorry about what I said.” Draco apologised, his expression turning serious. “I don’t know what came over me and I’m so, so sorry.”

For a while they kept their distance, their interactions still tinged tense and awkward. But as weeks passed by, it faded. Eventually, things got complicated again. Draco started sleeping in Harry’s bed after Harry suggested that it might be more comfortable than the couch, and that that way they could share the nice blankets.

But with no guests in their home, Draco and Harry had no one to interrupt them when things started getting going between them, as things simply tended to do when the two were alone together.

It had started with the odd handjob here and there, and the occasional morning where they’d grind pleasantly against each other with a kind of slow excitement until they came with a groan in each other’s arms.

Currently, Draco had his mouth around Harry’s cock, and Harry desperately tried to hold himself back from bucking forwards recklessly into the warm heat of it. He didn’t care that Draco had encouraged it, he didn’t want to hurt him.

Draco licked a gentle stripe up the underside of the shaft, making Harry shiver with the build up to his oncoming release.

“Draco, I’m-“ Harry gasped.

Draco gave him a thumbs up and then swallowed him deep, his throat working, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as the hot liquid spilled down his throat.

Draco slid off Harry with a smirk. He’d swallowed everything. He swiped his thumb across his lower lip and licked it clean.

“You didn’t need to do that!” Harry muttered, all flushed with embarrassment.

“I know.” Draco said cockily. “I wanted to.”

Harry slumped forwards and sighed into Draco’s shoulder, in part contentment and part exasperation.

“You’re spoiling me.” Harry said.

“I can if I want to.” Draco seemed ready for an argument, so Harry dropped it.

“I don’t… deserve you.”

Draco frowned. “What are you talking about? Look, I know your brain has turned into post-orgasm mush, but don’t just ramble on like some crazy person.”

Harry smiled wickedly. “I can if I want to.” He echoed back to Draco, in Draco’s own stuck-up tones.

“Is that what I sound like?” Draco exclaimed. “Because it’s shockingly attractive, I think.”

“Mm. You’ve always thought so, haven’t you?” Harry teased.

“What?” Draco exclaimed, his voice cracking with a small squeak, in a manner so shockingly pubescent he cringed.

“Oh, come now. You’ve always thought you were attractive.” Harry said as he cuddled closer into Draco’s side. “It was sooo obvious you thought you were hot stuff. The way you always strutted around with your nose in the air. With all the hair gel and cologne and designer skin creams.”

“Oh.” Draco said. It was that he always thought that **_he_** was attractive. And not that he always thought **_Harry_** attractive. Of course.

Draco smiled sweetly. His tail twitched playfully and his ears flickered. “Well was I **_wrong_** , Potter?”

Harry wrapped an arm around Draco’s waist and squeezed gently. “No. You definitely weren’t wrong.” He said honestly, and Draco blushed bright red.

“Ah.” A voice called out brashly from behind Draco as he rifled through a drawer of files. “So you’re Lucius’ son. The boy from the video. I heard Harry had hired you.”

Draco stiffened and turned around like someone had pricked him with a pin.

“Michaels. I’m Harry’s boss.” An older man introduced himself, holding out a hand for him to shake. “How nice to finally see you with some clothes on.”

Draco’s eyes widened and Michaels gave him a firm handshake that honestly left his hand hurting quite a bit.

“You… saw the video.” Draco said, distinctly unenthused by the idea.

“I did.” Michaels said. “But don’t worry, s’not really my cup of tea. So, welcome to the Ministry, kid.”

“Uhh, thanks.” Draco said. Not entirely sure if he should be relieved or offended that he wasn’t Michaels’ ‘cup of tea’. He settled on a funny mixture of both.

“You’ve been Harry’s assistant for a **_while_** now. I’m impressed. His other assistants all quit within a few days.”

“Harry’s not so bad.” Draco said defensively. “He just forgets to vanish his trash occasionally.”

Michaels regarded him carefully. “You’re not much like your father, are you kid?”

Draco deflated. “You noticed.” He muttered. “I’m sorry for being so improper.”

“Who called you improper?” Michaels laughed. “Being different from your father’s not such a bad thing. I never thought much of Lucius, myself.”

Draco blinked in surprise, then pursed his lips disapprovingly.

Michaels noticed. “Err, I’m sorry for speaking ill of the dead. I do suppose you might’ve liked him, being his son an’ all.”

“That’s…” Draco sighed. “That’s complicated.” He said. “Are you always this unencumbered of basic etiquette in your workplace conversations?”

“Draco, I really need that file.” Harry said from the doorway. “Also Michaels doesn’t even know what etiquette means, do you Michaels? Perhaps you could talk some sense into him, Draco?”

Draco flipped faster and grabbed the file. He pretended to consider it. “See you some other time, Michaels.” He said, before following after Harry.

“Harry.” Draco whispered as they made their way back to Harry’s office. “Your boss is weirder than you!”

Harry snorted. “He’s harmless really.”

Draco slowed down and eventually stopped walking. Harry glanced at him questioningly.

“So… exactly how many people at the Ministry have actually seen me… naked?” Draco asked, looking away shyly.

“Wait? What?” Harry stammered.

“The video, Harry.” Draco reminded him. “How many people here have seen the video?”

“Oh, that? Just me and Michaels.” Harry said, wondering how much trouble he would get in if he tampered with his boss’ memory. Probably too much trouble for it to be worth it, he eventually decided.

Draco sighed with relief. “Good. It’s still a little embarrassing, but I can cope with that.” He said.

Draco arched his back as he rode Harry. This was a sight Harry tried very hard to memorise. He was determined, he wouldn’t forget a single detail.

The way Draco’s grey eyes shined in the golden light given off by Harry’s cheap bedside lamp. The bead of sweat rolling down his neck. The pre-cum leaking down his cock and onto the gentle curve of Harry’s stomach.

He was fucking beautiful. And he was also fucking Harry.

Harry ran his hands along Draco’s hips and felt as Draco rolled them. He thrust himself up into Draco’s tight, warm entrance and almost came from the sound of Draco’s satisfied moan.

Harry almost said ‘I love you’. He almost meant it, too. But he was building up to it.

It’s a huge leap to go from being lifelong rivals, to the sorts of people who couldn’t live without each other, and they hadn’t made it all that long ago. But it was also a huge leap to go from ‘we’re just having sex’, to ‘you’re made for me’, wasn’t it?

Draco’s tail swished back and forth like a cobra ready to strike. He tightened the grip of his fingers on Harry’s shoulders, and when he came, Harry came. They clung to each other, panting and dizzy from orgasm.

He’d say it soon, Harry thought to himself. Harry would have to tell Draco how he really feels about him, but not today.

He couldn’t bear it if Draco didn’t sleep beside him tonight. Or wake up with him in the morning, both surprisingly and endearingly half asleep and messy haired. And if Draco didn’t eat breakfast with him tomorrow, well, Harry would never be able to forgive himself.

So Harry simply couldn’t tell Draco today. But maybe he’d tell him tomorrow, after breakfast, that he loved him.

Maybe. If only he could work up the courage to do it.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just putting a little warning here for one character getting almost assaulted by a side character who's not listed in the tags. Nothing actually happens, but there's still some potential references and imagery present. I'll sum up the chapter in the end notes so that you can skip this one if you'd like to do so.

The doorbell to Harry’s apartment rang while Harry was away, and Draco answered it.

He froze when he saw who it was.

“I suppose you thought you could just run away.” The man said. “I expect you thought me just a poor fool who wouldn’t recognise **_magic_** when I saw it. Just another **_Muggle_** who couldn’t figure out where on earth you might have disappeared to.”

Draco hastened to slam the door shut, but the man pressed inside, pushing him roughly against the wall.

“You’re mine Draco Lucius Malfoy. Don’t you ever forget it.” The man breathed.

Draco whipped his wand out of his sleeve but the man knocked it away.

“Not so fast.” He chuckled. “I’ve **_seen_** what those things can do.”

“Cross.” Draco choked. “I thought I told you before that I never wanted to see you again.”

Cross smiled tightly. “And I told you that you **_belong_** to me. Draco. You can’t ever escape me. I will always find you.”

“Get off me!” Draco hissed, but Cross wasn’t going anywhere.

“If you knew about magic and my family all along, then you’ll know all about my boyfriend too!” Draco spat, his heart pounding furiously in his chest from the force of his lie. Harry wasn’t his boyfriend. “The guy I’m living with, whose home you’ve just broken into to assault me, is Harry Potter. THE Harry Potter! That’s the guy who killed Voldemort, in case you’ve forgotten. And he’ll fucking kill you too for touching me!” Draco struggled hard in Cross’ grip.

“No.” Cross said with a smile, shaking his head. “I’ve seen that loser you hang around with lately, and that is **_not_** Harry Potter.”

Draco could have felt smug about the fact that that was in fact Harry Potter he’s been spending all that time with. Or he could have considered the fact that his stalker had fully bought that they were dating. But to be honest, he was way too busy feeling scared for his life.

“You’ve been following me.” Draco said numbly. How hadn’t he noticed?

“There’s that famous Malfoy wit.” Cross said, caressing Draco’s hair and his ears gently with one hand, whilst the other dug painfully into Draco’s shoulder. “You’re so brilliant. So perfect. So pure-blooded.”

Draco hissed with pain as Cross’ thumb dug in sharply under his right shoulder blade. Draco swallowed.

“Who are you really, Cross? How do you know all this?” Draco had always assumed that he was an ordinary muggle, aside from that one stalking incident before, but there was no way he could be a muggle and still know all these things.

“There’s a reason I changed my name from Goyle to Doyle, you know.” Cross smirked. “I believe you might have met my **_stupid_** cousin. And to think the family were all ashamed of **_me_**.”

“What… because you’re fucking crazy?” Draco asked. “Gee, I wonder why they’d be ashamed of that?”

Cross moved his hand to rest on Draco’s throat, and Draco went quiet with the fear that he might start to squeeze.

“Because I’m a squib.” Cross said manically. “It took them seven years to figure that out. You and I, we were the same back then. We read all the same books, we learned all the same history. Every stupid name of every stupid pure-blood wizard. We were equals. And then bam! Suddenly, we weren’t.”

Draco began to shudder as the weight of Cross’ hand grew just a little heavier.

“The shoot was actually the second time I’d met you. But you probably don’t remember. You were only five the first time.” Cross said. “Dear God, when I saw you again and I realised it was really you, the little prince Malfoy brought down to earth… I wanted you so bad.” He groaned in Draco’s ear, grinding himself slowly against Draco’s hip. “I couldn’t stop myself anymore. You were right there, at my fingertips.”

Draco bit back a terrified whimper as Cross pressed harder at his throat.

“Stupefy!” Harry screamed from somewhere behind them, and Cross fell unconscious to the floor. Draco slid down the wall, clutching at his throat, and Harry rushed to his side.

“Merlin, Draco! Are you okay? Is that the guy? Is that the one who was abusing you? The one who grabbed your wrist?”

“My… wrist?” Draco asked, confused. His voice sounded horrible. “He was grabbing my throat, not my wrist.”

“No! Back when I was working that Statute of Secrecy violation, I saw the bruises on your wrist. I know that someone’s been abusing you, Draco. Was that him?”

“No one was abusing me. He just did some things a while back that really freaked me out. But he never touched me like that until today.”

“Don’t protect him. He’s a piece of shit. He doesn’t deserve-”

“I’m not protecting him. Those marks on my wrist weren’t from anything like that. If I remember correctly that was from some muggle member of parliament. It was just a **_job_**. Admittedly it was not the most pleasant trade I’ve ever-“

Draco swallowed.

“Wait. You thought someone was abusing me? So this job offer and our sudden new friendship, it was all just because you felt **_sorry_** for me?” Draco seemed horrified by the idea.

“No.” Harry said. “Look, Draco. I’ve got to bring this guy back to the ministry before he wakes up. But I won’t be long. We can talk when I get back.”

Harry escorted the unconscious Cross Doyle to the ministry and tossed him in a holding cell. He certainly wouldn’t get Azkaban, but the scumbag might get obliviated, Harry hoped as he quickly filled out a report. And if the ministry didn’t do it, he could always do it himself, he told himself, scratching out his signature on the report so roughly that it tore the parchment underneath.

Then he rushed to get back home as quickly as was possible. He needed to tell Draco that he cared about him, that he mattered to him. It wasn’t pity that had made him take him in, it was something else. It was because Harry cared about Draco. He just genuinely cared about him.

He loved him too.

But once he got back, Draco Malfoy was gone. Him and everything he’d brought with him.

“Shit.” Harry swore, cradling his head in his hands and beginning to panic. “Don’t just run away you prat!” He yelled out angrily into the expanse of his empty apartment.

He heard the muffled thump of a phonebook being thrown at the adjoining wall.

“Suck it up your ass Mrs Eastbrook!” Harry yelled out, opening up his phone and drafting about a dozen different texts to a dozen different people. “I don’t throw things at you when you’re fucking your gardener!”

“What?” Mr Eastbrook’s voice boomed out angrily.

Harry bit his lip. “Sorry, Mrs Eastbrook.” He called out sheepishly.

When Draco had lost his mother, and when he’d searched and searched desperately for a way to regain some semblance of his family’s dignity, he had found Cross. Cross was the sort of man who you never really trust, but do see fit to rely on. He had this worldly air about him that always led to him giving you advice, advice that you always seemed to follow, as if some iron force of will was twisting your hand.

Draco had met Cross when he’d first ventured into doing porn, played around with the idea of using it to meet with people whose voices mattered. The sorts of people who’d be capable of reaffixing the Malfoy name back into the ledger books of history, and perhaps somewhat ironically of bringing a bit of dignity back to the Dead End Malfoy line. As Draco trudged through the rainy city streets he thought to himself that he should have known that was all a lost cause from the start.

Cross Doyle had been more of a big brother figure to him than anything else, but he quickly grew a fondness for him. They had a certain connection between them that Draco could never quite put his finger on. As he looked at it now, he realised that it was probably the fact that the guy had been raised in the wizarding world too. That could explain it. Even though the guy had never told him, not before today.

But Draco’s fondness for Cross had first started to dissipate when Cross had started acting really weird towards him, pushing him do shoots that he didn’t like, the sort of stuff that Draco wasn’t comfortable with. And then he’d started saying stuff like, ‘I love you’, whispering it into Draco’s ear during filming.

That was when Draco had put his foot down and outright refused to work with the guy anymore. That ‘I love you’. Draco had never really thought those words could scare him, could disgust him so.

Cross never did seem to have understood what the problem was, no matter how many times Draco had patiently explained it to him. But when Draco had finally told him, in no uncertain terms, “I never want to see you again.” He’d believed that Cross would finally leave him alone.

It seemed that he had not.

Draco wondered how long exactly Cross had been stalking him for. Not that it mattered anymore because Harry would put a stop to that… but if it was since they’d stopped working together then that was almost a year.

And if he hadn’t moved in to clean up after Harry? What if he’d been alone? What if he’d been completely alone? In an apartment that nobody ever visits, without friends, without family, without a soul in the world who’d ever think to check? What would have happened to him, then?

Draco Malfoy shivered. Thank God Harry was there.

He turned wistfully in the direction he’d come from, wishing he could turn back. But Draco Malfoy couldn’t face Harry again. His pride couldn’t cope with that. This job, this friendship, it was all a lie based on pity. And Draco’s growing fondness for Harry, the warm, kind man under all that mess… the casual touches, the shared meals, looking after each other… it wasn’t real.

Draco broke out into a run. Harry Potter didn’t really care for him! He cared about being a hero, about being the stupid chosen one! Of course that’s what this was, that’s what it always was! He couldn’t love Draco!

He came to a dead stop, wiping the tears from his cheeks.

“No!” He said to no one. “Shut up! I don’t love Harry! I never loved Harry!”

But even as he said it, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d always loved Harry. He’d just never realised it until today.

But loving Harry, made this all just so much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Summed up: A creepy co-worker from Draco's past is revealed to have been stalking Draco for a very long time and tries to attack him. Harry intervenes and arrests the creep, but by the time Harry returns Draco is gone. He's run away.

**Author's Note:**

> If you like what I do here you can follow me on twitter @Writer_Monster or on my tumblr where I’m writer-monster


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